H U N T S M A N

█  —— Which leads me to think that, well, you’d better surrender. ❝   What was that boy’s fault ? Nothing, except to be an orphan, the kind of street rat that people despite just for the sake of it - but it’s easier to hate the poor when you’re rich yourself. ( which he was ).  

█  —— I have little interest in discussing love… ❝ He looks down on her, with a certain gleam of disdain. After all, you gotta put under the rug what’s hitting you in the face in order to look like the man you always thought to be -  well, though it is true, it was never love that existed in his heart for Belle ( it was lust ). —— You sure are a peculiar little woman… ❝

█  —— I always keep my knifes sharp - a sort of habit, I guess ? Anyway, now, the only thing you have to do is speak. ❝  A sly smile underlined by a snake-like look just betray his lack of pity - well, after all, he was never shaped for mercy.

█ There’s something ROTTEN in the air. This smell, or impression, comes and ruins the beauty of its surrounding in waves, like a CURSE in its most minimal form. But strangely, there’s something too familiar for Gaston not to notice : it smells like the result of a hunt, the death gently showing its ugly self after the kill. —— Oh, I don’t doubt it, Sir…❝Iron. Copper. It’s something rusty ( the sign of his own mortality, flowing out from his wound ) —— I thank thee for your help. ❝

█ —— You, women, will always complain. ❝ An amused laugh gives the last straw to his attack while a sly smile slip up his lips —— But in the end, shiny armor or not, prince or not, sinner or not, you’ll always come back running to your man. ❝

OUT OF PREY ——  Does anyone have the link to an active Beast blog because I need to pester one ?????

 █ —— Once upon a time, you could have called me Gaston. But a beast, as you said, needs no name. ❝ Fangs cut the air, gleamering like the moon's halo. Long ago memories attacks him, but he fights back, KILLING every fond image that tries to lingers in his mind. After all, he's a strange being made of wrath and bitterness, he's a killer that goes out in the night to surprise you in your sleep with welcoming fangs, sinking into your throat. He's not the man he used to be. —— There is a girl quite famous in our gracious Kingdom; she bares the same name as yours, and she too, talks to God... ❝ He's not idiot, yet, he'd like to see what could her answer be to this question. Is she really the lady dressed in iron all of France hates or reveres ? If it is so, he might have at least found something else to choke with his bite than just memories of a revoked time.

█ —— Tone down your sarcasm boy when you're in the presence of the master of this castle ! ❝ A growl lingers at the end of those words, echoing against' the old stone of this miserable place. The youth of this intruder does not even set ablaze any flame of mercyness in those eyes that seem to have already seen hell. —— Now, what should I do with a vile thief of your kind ?... ❝ He moves in a distubring way, with the slowness of a wounded predator, a disfigured beast hardly understanding its own diformity. Walking toward the child, revealing to the light his ugliness, he doesn't sway, even for for a second ( he's way too used of this terrifying revelation ).

█ —— Oh, but I don't pretend to be stronger... ❝ His eyes shines like wild flames flickering by the wind, gleaming and disapearing everytimes the light don't hit his face. How he wishes he could prove her wrong and let his tongue taste the blood of a prude fool. —— But pride is a sin, my dear. ❝ He growls, faintly, a menacing warning he gladly gives ( he bares his teeth ). Or is it ? —— What is your name, child ? I wish to know how I should call God's interlocutor. ❝